12 am
by RaisedOnRadio
Summary: Make a wish. - [one shot, for the Davis twins' birthday]


**12 a.m.**

Make a wish.

Prompt: A 'first' in the twins' life. For the GhostHuntHQ Davis Twins' Birthday Project on Tumblr.

…

* * *

"Wake up," a voice whispered in his ear, as a finger tapped his shoulder. Seven-year-old Oliver sat upright fast enough to make his neck ache. He was disorientated in the dim light, and absolutely certain he was in the tiny ratty room he had practically grown up in.

The voice was not in Oliver's ear, it was in his head – his twin brother's voice, rudely invading his space without knocking on their mental inner door first. Eugene didn't bother to knock on real doors either, so why was Oliver surprised?

Oliver tamped down the suffocating feeling as the atmosphere settled around him and became familiar. He was in their bedroom in the orphanage. They had lived there since last winter. It was starting to get chilly outside again, which meant soon one year will have passed. At least, that is what the adults had told him. They made it out like it was a big thing. Their first year here.

Oliver focused on Eugene's face, oddly illuminated by a single candlestick's glow. It was set in a small metal holder with a handle, and Eugene held it confidently. If there had not been an electric lamp on the nightstand between the beds, Oliver would have believed they had gone back a hundred years and it was their normal source of light.

"Where did you get that?" Oliver asked.

"Mrs. Clark's office?"

"Is that a question or an answer? If you burn the place down, they are going to send us back."

Eugene shook his head with a smile. "They won't do that. There's nowhere to send us back to."

When Oliver's fears surfaced and were brushed aside so easily, it unnerved him. Didn't the idea of losing the first home where they were fed, clothed, and allowed to sleep in a timely manner scare Eugene? Did anything? Or did Eugene figure his brother did enough worrying for the both of them?

"Put it down before you drop it," Oliver said. He tried to sound commanding, but it just came out as pleading. Sometimes, when he was trying to control or protect his brother, he heard his mother's voice instead of his own. She had never been imposing. Every request from her came across as begging.

Eugene grumbled and set the candle down on the rickety nightstand between the beds. The nightstand wobbled and Oliver had to question if it was any safer there as he watched the flame flicker. They were on the third floor, jumping out the window just wasn't an option.

There was a small round alarm clock on the nightstand and Oliver picked it up to prevent it from tipping into the candle. Telling time wasn't something he was good at yet. But he could understand the concept. The hands were almost together at the top. And since it was still dark out, that meant it was close to a new day.

"So," Eugene said. He paused and sat down on Oliver's legs. "I overheard they can't find our birth certificates."

Eugene couldn't speak the language well, yet he seemed to understand it intuitively – much better than Oliver. He managed to be a part of so many conversations without people noticing. Maybe it was because they thought he couldn't understand. Or maybe he just could go invisible, like the people he talked to who no one else – Oliver included – could see. It was a skill Oliver would never praise or encourage, even though it did turn out to be useful often.

Eugene continued, "They said maybe our mother gave birth at home and we were never recorded."

Oliver frowned and shifted his legs out from under his brother. They were going numb. "Can someone just have a baby at home like that?"

"I don't know. I guess I'll have to ask."

That sounded like a conversation Oliver definitely did not want to be a part of. "So we really don't exist."

"Yeah," Eugene said. "They think we were seven years old when we came here. Alex just asked me when was our birthday. Do you know…?"

The question seemed to echo in the room. Of course they didn't know. There had never been a mention of a birthday. No presents, no treats, no congratulations for surviving another year. They only knew of the concept from seeing scenes on the TV in the rare occasion it had been on when their father was home, and he had fallen asleep drunk in front of the device. And they had known to never ask why they were not allowed to experience such things.

"Then we pick a day," Eugene said.

"You can't just pick a day to be your birthday," Oliver said.

"Stop trying to be reasonable and listen for a moment," Eugene said. "They will decide on something if we don't. And I want to have our first birthday together, just the two of us."

He picked up the candle and pointed to the clock Oliver still had in his hands. "Count down to the new day, alright? Then we'll blow out the candle together."

"Why?"

Eugene's mouth opened in surprise. "Uh, I don't know. But it's what they do. We don't have a cake or anything, but just a candle should work, right?"

The large plain candlestick didn't look like the ones they put on birthday cakes, but Oliver didn't think it was necessary to point it out. He watched the tiny third hand march around the clock face. Another revolution should do it. "And do you even know what day it is?"

"Yes," Eugene said. "I saw a calendar today." Then there was silence. Oliver watched another twenty seconds go by.

"September eighteenth," Eugene finally said, then exclaimed, "No! It would be the nineteenth now."

"Not yet," Oliver said, his eyes intent on the clock. "Another thirty seconds or so."

Eugene went quiet, and they watched until all three hands aligned at the twelve for barely an intake of breath before the seconds hand moved on. In a swift move, Eugene clicked off the lamp and held up the candle.

"Happy birthday," he said brightly.

As one, they blew out the candle. The room went dark. The ticking of the clock was magnified.

"Happy birthday," Oliver murmured.

* * *

…

Note: The concept of them choosing their birth date is a headcanon. It does not have any basis in fact (that I know of).

Also, writing pre-Davis era can be difficult since they did not even have their names yet, but trying to use the initials can be confusing to new or just more casual fans. So maybe you noticed they never 'say' their names in the dialogue…? They're only in the narrative.

Thanks for reading. :)


End file.
